


Canine Childcare

by Gaby



Series: Canine 'verse [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaby/pseuds/Gaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There will always be a Neal in Satchmo's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canine Childcare

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday pressie for the absolutely wonderful Kanarek13! Since she adores my Canine 'verse, I thought it was high time to let talking!Satchmo out to play again. :-) Sorry it turned out more angsty than humorous, but I hope you still like it. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR!!!  
> Beta by Elrhiarhodan

Life sucked.

From one day to the next, his best friend was gone and nobody told him anything about it.

Even worse, Satchmo not only had no clue where Neal was, but Mozzie had vanished as well. Granted, he had never been close friends with the weird little man, but Mozzie was fun to be around with. And fun to mess with.

But both men were gone, and neither Peter nor El said a word about what had happened. They seemed sad and subdued, which Satchmo found odd. At the same time, they were happy and excited, and here Satchmo at least knew exactly why: because El was pregnant. She was going to have a puppy soon--a _baby_ , as they called it.

And really, that made life suck even more.

Satchmo knew that tiny humans spent their days wailing and bawling. And they made messes. Lots of messes. They threw up and pooped all day; basically, human babies were stink bombs with limbs.

It was unfair.

Satchmo was loathe to admit it, but he wasn't getting any younger. Back when he was a young pup, he was full of energy. Nowadays, he liked his naps. He liked his peace and quiet. He liked his home to be his sanctuary.

As soon as the damn squaller would be living here, Satchmo's days of beautiful tranquility would be over.

And he didn't even have Neal around anymore, nobody he could complain to or go visit and find refuge with. He had always loved Neal's loft--even despite that yappy pug that lived with June.

Satchmo was frustrated and annoyed and, quite honestly, mad at Peter and El. And so he stopped talking to them. He was too busy mourning the loss of his friend anyway, and they seemed too preoccupied with El's pregnancy to really wonder if there was anything wrong with Satchmo.

*****

When El had her baby and brought the little boy home, it wasn’t as bad as Satchmo had feared.

It was actually worse.

The baby seemed to cry all the time, El was constantly beyond exhausted and Peter was almost hysterical in his worry.

There was talk about colics and high fever, so Satchmo could understand why the new parents would be frantic, but he felt ignored and cast aside. He was only canine, after all, and jealousy was an emotion he wasn't proud of but couldn't help feeling.

He knew that the baby was now part of the family, no matter how he felt about it. And he was a family dog. He wanted to like the kid, he really did. It was in his nature. But damn, the rug rat made it all but impossible.

And the worst part was that the kid's name was Neal.

Whenever Peter or El or any of the numerous visitors who dropped by to coo at the baby called out that name, Satchmo's heart leaped and he barked hopefully, expecting _his_ Neal to stroll through the front door with a bright smile and a bag full of doggy treats.

Satchmo was disappointed, every single time.

*****

Normally, Satchmo tried to stay away from the baby as much as he could -- being reminded of _his_ Neal just hurt too much -- but one afternoon, when the baby was about six months old, his curiosity got the best of him, and Satchmo sauntered upstairs. Peter was at work and El was sitting at the dining room table, working on her laptop while talking on the phone with Yvonne.

Satchmo sat down on his haunches in front of the nursery. The door was slightly ajar. It was perfectly quiet in the room, so Satchmo figured that the baby was sleeping.

This was ridiculous. It really wasn't a big deal to push the door open and walk into the nursery, so why did he feel so nervous and unsure? Baby Neal was part of his family. It was high time to get to know the little rug rat.

Satchmo took a deep breath, gave himself a silent pep talk, and then pushed his way into the nursery.

The kid was lying in his crib, seemingly asleep, gently sucking on a pacifier. The mop of blond hair looked tousled and the cheeks were flushed from sleep. One fist was loosely curled next to the cute face.

Satchmo sat down in front of the crib and looked at the kid, _really_ looked at the kid, for the first time since Peter and El had brought their son home.

Little Neal looked kind of adorable, Satchmo had to admit to himself. It really wasn't fair to shun the kid, to ignore him and pretend he wasn't part of the family. Satchmo's family.

"It's not your fault, kiddo," he muttered.

A pair of sleepy blue eyes blinked open and the baby pushed the pacifier out of his tiny mouth. The fist uncurled and slowly reached out toward Satchmo. "Whatcha talkin' about?"

Satchmo gaped. "Did you...did you just speak?" he asked in disbelief.

Little Neal frowned and then wiggled around until he managed to sit up, holding on to the bars of the crib for leverage. "Yeah." He hesitated for a moment before pushing one hand through the bars, reaching for Satchmo. "You can understand me?"

Satchmo just continued to stare. "You're a baby!" he finally exclaimed accusingly. "Babies don't talk!"

Little Neal broke into a giggle fit. "But doggies do?" he asked. "You're a doggy."

Satchmo raised his head, trying to look dignified. "I'm Satchmo."

"I know." Little Neal pulled his hand back when he realized that he couldn't reach Satchmo. He popped his thumb into his mouth and sucked on it contemplatively. Then he mumbled around his thumb, "But you're also a doggy."

Satchmo nodded.

"Can all doggies talk?"

"No, I don't think so. I've never tried to talk to any other dog. Only my humans."

"Like mommy and daddy?"

"Yeah." Satchmo sighed softly, looking sad. "And some others. Friends. Really good friends."

"Who?" Little Neal asked curiously, looking around. "Are they here?"

"No. I don't know where they went. Your parents refuse to talk about it." Satchmo sighed again.

"I'm sorry." Little Neal thought for a moment and then reached through the bars again. "Poor doggy," he mumbled.

Satchmo scooted closer so that the small hand could pat him on the head. It felt nice.

They spent a few minutes in comfortable silence, with Little Neal enthusiastically, though somewhat uncoordinatedly, petting Satchmo with a pudgy hand.

"Satchmo?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you say it's not my fault?"

Satchmo sighed. "My best friend left and you showed up. I didn't want you, I wanted my friend back." He hesitated a long moment. "And you're named after him, so that really hurts. You know?"

Little Neal looked sad. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. And I made you responsible for it. And that wasn't fair. As I said, it wasn't your fault."

Little Neal sucked on his thumb contemplatively. "Can you tell me about him?"

Satchmo gave a doggy grin. "How much time do you have?" he asked with a happy bark.

"Silly doggy! I can't tell time yet!"

Satchmo chuffed. "You can speak but you can't tell time? That's rich."

"Hey, I'm a baby!"

"And I'm a dog. That's no excuse."

"And mommy and daddy can understand you? I tried to talk to them but they only ever coo at me."

"Maybe they really only hear you babbling? Humans are weird."

"I'm a human!"

"Yeah, but you're a Neal." Satchmo gave another happy bark.

Little Neal bounced on his diapered butt. "Tell me about the other Neal!"

"Where do I start?" Satchmo leaned against the side of the crib. "He gave the best belly rubs. And he always played fetch with me. He was very smart and very funny and often drove your daddy crazy with his stunts."

Little Neal looked riveted. "Like how?"

Satchmo chuffed with amusement when he looked at the boy, who was staring at him through the bars of his crib. "Did you know that Neal broke out of prison? Your daddy put him there. More than once."

The bright blue eyes, so much like the older Neal's, widened. "Wow. Really?" Little Neal rattled the bars. "I know there's one or two bars you can remove. When I'm older, mommy and daddy will take them out so I can crawl out of the crib by myself. Mommy said so." He thought for a moment. "Daddy looked really worried though."

Satchmo gave a doggy grin. "Your daddy always worries. Do you know which bars?" He gently bit into the closest bar and wiggled it, but nothing happened. After several tries, he found one of the removable bars and pulled it away.

"Awesome!" Little Neal exclaimed and experimentally crawled toward the opening. Satchmo made sure to lie down in front of the gap so that the boy could fall on top of him. Little Neal giggled and then snuggled close.

"Now you're officially an escape artist, just like your namesake," Satchmo said with an amused chuff.

"He sounds like a really great guy." Little Neal yawned and pushed his thumb into his mouth.

"Ready to take a nap?"

"Hmm-hmm." The boy's eyes were already slowly closing, but he forced them to open again. "But afterwards, you tell me more about him, okay?"

"You bet."

Satchmo got comfortable, placing his head on his front paws, the small body on his back a solid weight. He thought that Little Neal had dropped off to sleep when he suddenly heard the boy pipe up again.

"I have a doggy," he mumbled sleepily and pointed into his crib where a stuffed dog that looked like a miniature version of Satchmo was lying. "See?"

Satchmo gave an approving bark. "Good lookin' toy," he said.

Little Neal hummed in agreement. "And now I have two doggies," he mumbled, his pudgy arms wrapping tighter around Satchmo's neck. A few seconds later, the grip loosened again, and the boy's breathing evened out.

Something in Satchmo's chest loosened at that. "Yes, you have," he whispered. "As long as you want me."

THE END


End file.
